I would like to thank everyone who read last week's story. If you didn't read the comments on Spacebook, I would like to apologize for the typos. The truth is, I had difficulty reading the story after I wrote it and I just hit the "publish" key. I'm sure some of you that knew me from school secretly thought, "There's the Monner we know!"
I appreciated the comments and acknowledgements.
Larry returned to his home Christmas Eve. He had enough of the hospital and asked to go home. He watches Judge Judy and drag racing on the "biggest" TV I have ever seen in anyone's bedroom. I have exchanged more "I love yous" with Larry this past week than we had exchanged in the last fifty-six years. (Don't let that happen to you.) I am thankful for every minute we spend together.
I brought up last week's story on Larry's cell phone and handed the phone to him. I asked him to read it as I left the room. I knew I would never be able to say what I was able to write. I'm pretty sure he didn't read the story because he didn't say anything like, "It would have been a great story, if you could spell and type."
OK, I'm getting emotional and need to change the subject. I want to talk about something fun; skin cancer. I know skin cancer is not fun, but mine is fun to tell a story about. Let's keep an open mind, I'm having a rough week. This is an update to a story I wrote a couple weeks ago.
I have a Blah, blah, carcinoma on my neck. It showed up as a spider-looking spot about the size of the head of a 16d nail. (Elaine doesn't know how big the head of a 16d nail is, so it is about 1/4" in diameter. You see, 16d is a construction term and not all (construction language) is foul.)
Friday morning I had the Blah, blah carcinoma removed. Without going back and rereading the story of my trip to the dermatologist, the doctor had removed some tissue to send to the lab. (Why do they call it tissue? It was a piece of my neck!)
When I arrived at the doctor's Friday morning I was escorted to the "remove the cancer room". (I don't know what to call it.) The nurse (escort) said, "So, we're here to remove a spot on your neck, have you had any issues with the spot?" I said, "It itches!" She smiled and said, "Well, it is going to itch again!" I might have been mistaken, but I'm sure the smile changed to a grin; an evil grin.
The nurse handed me a tablet. She ordered me to read the screen and sign the screen with my finger.
Me: I would love to read this, but I would need my glasses.
Nurse: It says three things. You give the doctor permission to perform the procedure, you are going to bleed, and you are going to have a scar. Sign there!
Me: Wow, no wonder the writing is so small. (I signed.)
The doc came in and said, "The lab results came back exactly what I suspected. I'll just cut it out." I was thinking how young he looked. I relaxed a little when I thought, "This thing is the size of a 16d nail, how bad can this be?"
A different nurse came in with a tray of stuff. She informed me she was going to "numb" my neck. I knew what that meant and closed my eyes. This may surprise you but I am in medical terms a 'weanie". My eyes automatically close when I see, smell or hear a hypodermic needle. The nurse said you are going to feel a sharp prick and then a burn. I felt several sharp pricks and no burn.
The doc came back in the room and said, "Man this is going to be tough working under this beard." He started laying my beard over my face and pushing it out of the way. He asked the nurse to hold my beard. He asked me, "Do you feel anything sharp?" I may not be a genius, but I knew by that question the cutting had begun. I replied, No, I can't feel anything sharp."
A short time later the nurse placed a flat piece of metal on my chest and asked me to put my hands on it. I felt the metal and realized it was attached to a sting or cord. Remember, my eyes are closed, for fear they might open and see something I don't want to see..
Unfortunately, I could hear things. I heard things like scissors snipping, something spraying and something electrical. I asked what the metal plate was for. The doc replied, "It keeps you grounded. If you weren't touching metal you would feel an electrical shock when I use one of my tools." That was about the time I smelled it, burning flesh. I asked the doc, "Are you welding?" "Well, not exactly," he said laughing.
The procedure was over for a while. The nurse informed me the doc left the room to look at my tissue through a microscope. Then he would determine if he had done enough cutting and welding to removal all of the cancer. I took this time to read all of the diplomas on the wall. He had several diplomas and certificates for doctoring and not one diploma for welding.
The doctor came back into the room and said, "We have to take more." The procedure started all over again. I asked the doctor, "How big is the hole in my neck?" I almost fell off the table- he said, "About as big a fifty cent piece, but shaped like a football." I understood why my beard may have been a problem. I thought to myself, "This guy must be a coin collector, there is no way he ever used a fifty-cent piece." I checked his diplomas again. I thought, "Hey, he's a little older than I thought!"
When the doctor was finished the nurse started giving Elaine and I instructions for the next ten days. The nurse told me she was going to bandage my wound and I should leave it on for forty-eight hours. The bandage she put on my neck is as big as a queen size bed pillow. (This is my story and that is how big I say it is.)
As I left the doctors office two couples were in the waiting room. I noticed they were staring at my pillow bandage. I loudly announced, "Don't let them do it to you!" The oldest of the couples didn't think it was as funny as I did. I didn't care, I was already starting to itch.
OK, I need to thank the doctor and the nurses.
Larry, I love you. Readers, tell someone you love them. Buy yarn!
Hey Fairy Godmother, get well, we have a road trip planned.
Our crazy lives!